


Daydream

by gluedwithgold



Series: But They're Brothers! [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daydreaming, Drabble, Fantasy, Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is bored and lets himself daydream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daydream

**Author's Note:**

> Just a wee ficlet born of daydreaming about pretty, sweaty boys. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Dean is bored. The middle of summer in the deep south, Dad has been gone for nearly a week and Sam, for whatever reason Dean has never understood, is out running. So Dean’s stuck alone, sticky and sweating in the tiny, run-down apartment with no television they're calling home this month. He’s flopped on his back on the couch, one leg draped over the back, staring up at the ceiling.

He looks at his watch - Sam’s been gone forty-five minutes. He’ll probably be gone another forty-five. Once he gets back they can go for a drive, maybe go see a movie to soak up some air conditioning. But till Sam gets back, Dean is stuck.

Dean really doesn’t get why the kid likes to run so much. Doesn’t matter the weather - ball-melting hot or teeth-chattering cold, Sam still goes running almost every day. He’s been doing it for two years now, since he was fourteen. Dean suspects it’s Sam’s way of getting time alone, and the kid is smart, because there’s no way Dad’s going to bitch about Sam training more.

For a while, Dean thought Sam was lying and would just go hang out somewhere to get away, but he’d followed him in the Impala one day - just far enough away so Sam wouldn’t know, of course - and the little shit really did run the whole time. To each his own, but Dean isn’t ever going to willingly run - not unless some fugly is chasing after him with huge, sharp teeth.

Dean shifts on the couch, tugging his boxers away from his thighs where they’re stuck with sweat. Sam will come home dripping with sweat, his t-shirt stuck to his chest that’s just now starting to fill out, his floppy, too-long hair pasted to his forehead in dark, wet curls. He’ll be out of breath, panting huffs of air as he stretches, one long leg propped up on a chair as he leans over, the hem of his shirt riding up his back, separating from the waistband of his slightly too large shorts that always hang low on his hips.

Dean sighs, checks his watch again. Still a half hour to wait. As long as he’s got some time to himself, might as well….

He knows he’s a sick bastard, thinking about his brother that way. And honestly he usually pushes those thoughts away, he really does, but today he’s bored and hot and horny and he just doesn’t care. Doesn’t hurt anyone to just think about it, right?

His hand slides down his chest, over his stomach, past his hips to rest over his cock that’s already pushing up at his boxers. He lets out a long, slow breath as he pushes his hips up against his hand and lets his mind wander….

_He watches as Sam stretches his muscles out when he gets home, eyes raking over the long lines of his back, the soft, feathery hair on the backs of his thighs peeking out from the bottom of his shorts, those firm, lean muscles rolling under the smooth skin. He lets his eyes linger on the round globes of Sam’s ass, the waistband of his shorts sitting just above the top of the curve. Dean walks up behind him, so close he can feel the heat radiating off his brother, then slides one hand to the back of Sam’s thigh. Sam gasps at the touch, freezing in place before letting the breath out, slowly, a barely audible sigh that sends a shiver up Dean’s spine. But Sam doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away - he just lets Dean touch, his fingers light against Sam’s heated skin. He pushes up the leg of Sam’s shorts, his hand dragging over tight muscle until he has a palmful of Sam’s ass, fingers clenching down, kneading into the smooth skin._

_“Dean…” Sam breathes the word like a prayer, his hips pushing back ever so slightly against Dean’s hand. That pleading whisper is all Dean needs, and he’s leaning down, draping his body over his little brother’s back until his lips connect with the back of Sam’s neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty bite of sweat that’s barely covering the sweet fire that’s all Sam. Dean’s free hand winds around Sam’s waist, slipping under the billow of fabric and inching up his shirt as Dean touches the tight expanse of his brother’s stomach, rising up to his pecs and pulling Sam back, straightening him up to standing and pressing them together, back to chest, heat to heat._

_Dean lets his other hand travel from Sam’s ass, across his hip and around to the front of his thigh, fingers grazing the crease where leg meets hip, tracing the line down to the pillowy soft flesh of his inner thigh, fingers pressing into the meat there, then rising, a barely-there touch across Sam’s balls, fingers ghosting over the base of his rapidly filling cock. His lips find the pulse point just below his brother’s ear and he sucks, pulling the skin up between his lips, the tip of his tongue flicking across skin, tasting, savoring, as his fingers wrap around the silky hot skin of Sam’s shaft. Sam shudders at the sensations, his whole body trembling against Dean’s and he moans, a guttural sound that says what Dean’s feeling, too - says how right it feels, how good, like finally coming home…._

The metallic scrape of the key in the lock has Dean yanking his hand out of his boxers, bounding up off the couch and heading for the bathroom in one fluid motion. He mutters out a ‘heya, Sammy’ as he ducks inside, catching just a glimpse of his sweaty, panting little brother before pushing the door closed and turning the lock.


End file.
